A.N.: The poem in this chapter is written in Shakespearian English, therefore some annotations would be necessary.

thy = your / thou = you / canst = can / wouldst = would / wist = knew / m're = more / s're = sore / quaint = beautiful / quench = satisfy / beseech = ask 

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"Y-you... you what?"

"Sophie, let's leave them alone for a minute or two." John proposed cheerfully.

"But he told her the magic words!" Sophie giggled, jumping one time in the air.

"That's why they need some privacy. C'mon now." The butler motioned his niece to follow him outside the library.

Being left in each other's company, both Freya and Julian were at a cumbrous loss for words. However, Julian coughed, moistening his emotion-dried throat.

"I was fooler than Epimetheus when he married Pandora. I was simply an idiot, Freya. I felt it, though. Not the fluid you were referring to, because it seemed too small to fit my confession, but a bloody dozen Supernovas colliding all at once. I am dizzy and steady, choking and free, lifeless and alive altogether. I even wrote a poem, if you can believe it! I am not the next Wordsworth, but I tried. Damn, I tried so hard! May I?"

He asked, shakily removing a piece of paper from the pocket of his pants. His ribcage was ambushed by the disquiet, fidgety thumps of his heart. Freya was smiling vividly, her own heart doing a pirouette by the time he pronounced his first verse.

"How canst I not quench thy heart

when thou are a work of art?

How canst I not love thy flaws

when thou are my ardor's cause?

I wist I wouldst crawl on my knees

when you smile with divine ease.

I wist I wouldst beseech for m're,

thy absence turning me so sore.

Shift my logic to emotion,

I love thee with quaint devotion."

His hoarse voice was clogged by the heart-racing emotions that surmounted all reasoning. He seemed to be a host of an entirely opposite person. Almost half an year ago, no one, not even the damp-cheeked Freya would have intuited such a drastic, yet oh, so welcoming change. His impulsive demeanour was very much alike, but he was in love! And not the kind of teenage-butterflies-in-my-stomach, but a rooted, ingenuous, encompassing love that mitigated his thirst for belonging to someone other than himself.

He smiled rather timidly, the life-rendering piece of paper still present in his shuddering hand. He was so restive, yet so composed! What would her reaction be? Would she finally accept him or was it too late? Would she kiss him, hug him or yell at him? All these thoughts were slinking along the feeling of unchaining, turning him once again into an emotional wreck.

"S-so?" Julian stuttered, his soul-seeking gaze filled with anchor-like hope.

Freya's lustrous visage beamed with unsullied euphoria as she approached her husband. With equally quivering fingers, she delicately traced the creases above his brow, then moved to his sturdy jaw line and finally rested on his salty lips.

"The chocolate mousse I have just eaten seems so sour compared to your confession. You cannot fathom how much I loved it! And that poem? No, you are not Wordsworth. You are so much more than him, you are the bloody Phoenix bird that I love..." She kissed his eyelids. "... and cherish..." She kissed his cheek. "... and adore..." She kissed the tip of his nose. "... and worship." She kissed the corner of his mouth, letting her lips rest still on his own.

Julian smiled against the candied flesh of his wife and then bit her lower lip, asking for entrance. She was more than willing to render it and welcome the skillful, loving tongue of the man that swept her off her feet just a couple of months ago.

He gripped a fistful of dark chocolate hair, resting his hand at the back of her head. His other hand roamed down her body, exploring with meticulous famine the curves, hills and valleys of her frame.

That kiss was not supposed to end with a rendez-vous in bed. No. It was a statement, a vow, a promise to not only shelter each other, but to endeavour in protecting the abundant felicity of their home.

Their unsatiated lips were neither lust-driven, nor inclined to take it further. They were simply putting their mutual love on a pedestal – neither unreachable, nor inanimate, but restless and perpetually improving.

By the time the kiss had finished, their swollen lips were desperate for a recess. Panting breaths and vibrating hearts were padding the library with a golden, incorruptible aura.

"Can we say it now?" Freya asked childishly.

"What exactly?" Julian inquired, amusement glittering in his tender eyes.

"The back-and-forth eight letters."

The Duke chuckled loudly, nearly clutching his belly. "You make it sound like a Math lesson." He took a deep, jittery breath and declared.

"I love you, Freya."

"I love you too, Julian."

Sophie peeked in through the guilded door and cooed excitedly, clapping her tiny hands. The royal couple broke into a healthy session of laughter, probably the most heartfelt ever since their first day of marriage.

"You wicked girl!" Julian scolded playfully, inviting the little angel into his arms. He brought her to Freya's lips and she pecked her joyfully.

"Ha, and my grandpa told me that fairytales don't exist. Liar!" Sophie pouted, her cheeks becoming even chubbier.

John came to his niece' side and grinned. "She's definitely gon' be a heart-breaker."

"What happened with your accent?" Julian asked in bewilderment.

"I'm a true-born American, milord. I wanted to keep a reputation – your reputation, ya know."

"Well, don't anymore. My wife taught me the importance of being real, so feel free to be all yankee if you want."

"Thank you, milord."

All four of them smiled softly. Julian smiled even brighter, for he told Sophie to pick a book of her own choice and take it back home.

"Any?" She quizzed in a chirpy, Cinderella voice.

Julian and his wife nodded in unison, Freya's heart blooming as she embraced her husband's kindness.

Sophie eventually picked one of the first edited versions of "Alice in Wonderland", stating that she resembles her in more ways than one. She then waved good-bye to Freya, pecking her in return, and put her hands in John's and Julian's grip as they walked down to the car.

The blonde women exited the four-wheeled jalopy and greeted Julian politely, hugging her daughter dearly.

Before driving back to home, Julian leaned in and whispered into the mother's ear. "If you ever want fewer hours and a better wage, you can move in as a maid. And with Sophie learning in Freya's classroom, you can all live together, like a proper family."

Tears sparkled in the woman's fatigued eyes, a spark of hope emerging. How kind this man is. She thought.

After receiving what must have been a dozen "Thank you" and letting John spend the day with his family, Julian returned to Freya.

"You know I can read lips, don't you?" Freya inquired, smiling profoundly.

"I am sure you do." Julian teased, jokingly slapping her arse.

"It was lovely what you proposed to Sophie's mother. Thank you for being so kind." Freya radiated joy through every pore of her love-stricken body.

"I feel reborn, actually. This mien suits me better." Julian concluded, inviting Freya to eat some chocolate-topped strawberries in their bed.

When they seated their Adam and Eve bodies on the Provence-scented linen, ten chunky fruits reigning in Julian's hand, they resembled an ancient couple from Julius Caesar's epoque.

While feeding his wife's plump lips with one of the strawberries – chocolate and Julian mixed together were truly euphoric – he answered her recently-adressed question.

"Well, Epimetheus was the Titan twin of Prometheus, the thief of fire. They were both entitled to distribute traits among the new creatures, but when Epimetheus reached humans, he gave them no traits, for he spent them on animals. Zeus was so mad that he created Pandora to be married to the traitor. The bloody fool accepted, ignoring his twin's warning, and was then granted with Pandora's box. He opened it and a dreadful plague was spread across the entire mankind."

Freya chuckled, a drop of melted chocolate landing in between her bosoms. Julian smirked in utter satisfaction, leaning above the stawberry plate to taste the droplet off the valley of her breasts. His wife sighed pleasedly, letting the sinful, yet candid tongue work its talent.

"Stop it, you are interrupting me!" She giggled, inserting two fingers in the bowl of melted chocolate and splashing him across his vigorous chest.

Julian's pupils widened, shocked by Freya's loss of inhibition, yet eager to play the game as competently as he could. In his launch towards her, he yanked the plate off the bed, but managed to drop the entire content of the bowl on Freya's succulent curves. However, she was not to be defeated. Between laughs and playful mockeries, she plastered herself to Julian's manly frame and rubbed her chocolate-painted bareness against his.

The moment her core touched his chocolate-coated shaft and felt his member poke her lips, she instantly retreated.

"I am sorry, I..." She mumbled an apologize.

He smiled knowingly and traced her mouth with his thumb. "Don't worry, we have all the time in the world to grow accustomed to each other. I shall not make love to you until you are fully comfortable."

His serene voice made a string of her heart vibrate in appreciation. "The role of patience is reversed now, isn't it? Your dear disapproves, though." She pointed towards his aroused phallus.

"For a woman such as yourself, he can even wait until every mathematical problem is solved." He stated, inviting her to clean the chocolate off their bodies.

Of course I would wait.

She nodded, feeling proud of his love, and went with him to the bathroom. There, standing in each other's arms, back to chest, pelvis to rear, they cleaned the hazel liquid, and along with it, every worry perished like an autumn leaf.